


The Girl of Tomorrow

by ThuktunFlishithy



Category: Superman - All Media Types, Worm - Wildbow
Genre: AU, Crossover, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThuktunFlishithy/pseuds/ThuktunFlishithy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You will believe Taylor can fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posting to AO3, though I have posted stories on other forums. This story is a reimagining of a previous story, titled The Last Daughter. That story, while popular, had many flaws that I wished to correct. So, six months after finishing, I have begun this story.

Danny Hebert hated the cold.  
  
It bit and nipped at every exposed patch of skin, despite his attempts to bundle up, and the fierce wind blowing against him didn't help. The sea was turbulent, threatening to swallow his small fishing boat and drag him to the frigid depths below, and a stinging rain whipped to the sides, soaking him to the bone. He had sailed upwards, carefully skirting along the Canadian coastline and into Arctic waters, where there was good fishing.  
  
Well, normally.  
  
His hands were pale and shivering as he worked, pulling up yet another empty cage. Getting work as a deep-sea fisherman was getting harder and harder with each passing day, as the oceans were depleted of their bountiful stock, and even here he was having trouble getting enough to break even. It didn't help that the bigger ships, the ones owned by actual companies, did his job on a far bigger scale. His old friends had left the business, to the point where he didn't even have a partner with him.  
  
Hauling the cage back onto the deck, he muttered a curse to himself and made for the cabin. He had to struggle against the wind to shut the door, but he eventually managed to get it done. Rubbing his hands, he decided to switch on the radio, if only to keep himself distracted while he tried to warm up.  
  
" _...a dreadful sight in what used to be Moscow today, as the city perishes in nuclear fire. Earlier this morning, the creature known as Behemoth appeared in the Red Square, where it was engaged by an assortment of local parahumans and the Russian military. Despite managing to inflict grievous wounds on the monster, the defensive forces were forced back, and a small nuclear warhead was-_ "  
  
He turned the radio off.  
  
Warmth was finally starting to return to his hands. Breathing into them, he put on a dry pair of gloves and went out again, wincing as the wind bit into his face. One more haul, then he was heading home, back to Annette. There was no way in hell he was going to keep up with this if he kept on getting small fry and garbage.  
  
That was when he noticed it. Something close to the boat, nearly as big as he was and bobbing in the violent waves. At first, he thought it was just a hunk of ice, drifting down from the Arctic, but as he peered closer at it, he realized that it was artificial in nature. It appeared to be made out of a silver metal of some kind, with a sleek form, and he found himself wondering if it was valuable loot.  
  
There was one way to be certain. Grabbing the cage again, he hurled it at the silver object. The first time, he missed and had to pull it back, but the second time was a success. Once he was sure that the cage had the thing secured, he began to tow it closer to the boat. Sea spray drenched him as he worked, but he ignored the cold, tired muscles straining as he pulled the silver object closer.  
  
As he got a better look at it, he realized that it looked almost like a missile of sorts, or like something from an old science fiction story. Small fins sloped out from the wide base, and a series of bulges ran equidistant around the middle, almost imperceptible.  
  
Finally, it clunked against the side of his boat, and he pulled it up. It was far lighter than he'd expected, and as he set it down with a sharp ringing noise, he realized that it was actually hollow. It definitely had to be a storage container of sorts, but of what?  
  
He ran his hands over the smooth metal. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and almost pliable like plastic as he pressed down on it. He looked around, searching for a handle or a hatch, but found nothing. The thing didn't even seem to have bolts or screws; it was as if it was made from a single piece of metal.  
  
Was it tinkertech? It seemed more and more like a viable explanation with each passing second. Those barely-understood capes could make laser cannons out of junk; it wouldn't be out of their league to make something like this. Hell, he occasionally sold scrap he found to one in Newfoundland.  
  
And if that was the case, then who made it? There didn't appear to be any form of identification on the rocket-like object. No barcodes, no sigils, nothing.  
  
Wait. There was something, a faint design etched into the metal. A stylized 'S' of sorts, within the outline of a diamond. He ran his hands over it, his brow furrowed.  
  
If it was tinkertech, then he could sell it to the local PRT for good money; they were always greedy for stuff they could try to study. The tinker in Newfoundland might be interested as well, but he was sometimes away from port on some strange task.  
  
Danny straightened with a sigh. Something told him he was going to have to discuss it, first.  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
"You brought it _here_?" Annette asked, incredulous. "What were you thinking?"  
  
Danny looked across the strange object at his wife. It was surprisingly easy to bring it to the garage, where he had plopped it down on a table and called Annette down. Her reaction was, to say at the very least, unamused, and his explanation did not help.  
  
"I, uh, got cold feet," he replied, rubbing the back of his head. "I was going to bring it in to the PRT, but I suddenly started thinking that, hey, they might think I was a mad tinker with a bomb, and... I decided to just come back here with it."  
  
Annette pulled off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, I can see that, I guess. Kinda. But what if it is a bomb or something?"  
  
"It didn't explode on the way here, so I thought it might be safe. I mean, it took a good few hits when the weather got really rough, and nothing happened even then."  
  
"I think we should call the PRT, see if they can take it from us," Annette said, warily running a hand over the metal of the object. "Maybe they can-"  
  
She was interrupted by a sharp click, one that sent both of them taking a startled step back. Eyes fixed on the strange container, they watched as a hatch slid open, and a small mechanical arm come out. It began to shine a bright green light on the wall, then circled around the room, as if it was scanning for something. The Heberts simply stood and watched, paralyzed with shock, as the light swept over them.  
  
The arm stopped after three revolutions, then retracted back into the container. An even larger hatch sunk in and slid open, accompanied by a soft hiss of air as the inside of the container was exposed.  
  
Then, a baby began to cry.  
  
Danny glanced back at Annette, his jaw agape. His wife returned the favor, then looked back at the rocket. There was a moment's pause, and then she took a cautious stepped forward.  
  
"Anne-" Danny began.  
  
"Honey," she whispered, reaching her hands inside. "Look."  
  
Slowly, gently, Annette pulled a baby out of the container. The infant was bundled in what appeared to be a red blanket, which was now the same color of its cheeks. Its cries ceased when Annette brought it close to her chest, and Danny stepped closer to it, a surreal feeling washing over him.  
  
"H-how," he said, disbelief clear in his voice. "I mean, that thing was closed for three days straight, and it... it was in the water..."  
  
"Shhhh," Annette whispered, gently rocking the baby in her arms. "It's okay, it's okay."  
  
Danny looked down at the baby's face, its piercing blue eyes, and it looked back at him.  
  
Then, it giggled, and something changed in him.  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
"I don't think anyone's coming for the baby," he said.  
  
They had moved to the living room, after hastily covering the rocket with a tarp. Annette sat across from him, still holding the baby. It was asleep, now, and still wrapped in the red blanket.  
  
"It wouldn't matter if she did have someone," Annette said. "What kind of monster puts a baby in a box and puts her in the middle of the ocean?"  
  
Danny blinked. "Her?"  
  
"I checked. She's a girl. And I'm not just ready to give her up."  
  
"Who said anything about that?"  
  
"You didn't, but you implied we might have trouble," Annette replied. "Why send her to an orphanage when she could have parents here, right now? How long have we been trying for a baby?"  
  
"A while," Danny sighed. "A very long while."  
  
The baby cooed in her sleep, and Annette rocked her again. Danny watched, a small smile on his face.  
  
"We're going to need to fabricate something if we go through with this," he said. "We need a birth certificate for her."  
  
"We also need a name, first," Annette said. "How about... Sarah?"  
  
Danny shook his head. "Nah; she doesn't seem like a Sarah. Claire? Lois?"  
  
"I'm not feeling that, either. What other names did we come up with, all those months back?"  
  
"Well, there's Tara, Lana, Zoe, Taylor-"  
  
"Ooh, I like that one," Annette said. "Now what for a middle name?"  
  
"Let's go with your name," Danny replied. "You have your mother's name as a middle, and I have my dad's; it'd only make sense."  
  
"Yeah, that sounds good. Taylor Annette Hebert."  
  
Danny smiled. "Taylor Annette Hebert."  
  
The baby cooed again, as if in agreement.  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
It was a cloudy day in Newfoundland when Danny came to port. The surrounding town used to be quite bustling, especially during the summer, but now there were only a half-dozen boats in the harbor. It wasn't a isolated case, either; coastal areas around the globe were suffering. Ever since that Leviathan monster appeared, people had become scared of port towns.  
  
After securing his boat, he stepped onto the pier, tightly gripping the canister in his pocket. He had found it in the capsule, after checking to see what else had come with Taylor. It seemed to have a cap, but it refused to budge, no matter how hard he tried. Annette was not happy when she found out about the broken power tools.  
  
He chuckled to himself at the thought, and walked to the bus stop.  
  
Thankfully, the tinker was at the office when Danny finally arrived. After getting buzzed in by a rather heavyset clerk, he walked down the hall and knocked on the door.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"It's me, Danny. I think I have something for you."  
  
"Oh? Do come in, then."  
  
Danny opened the door and stepped inside. "Morning, Andrew."  
  
"It's nice to see you," Andrew replied, leaning back in his seat. "So, what do you have this time? Make sure it's nothing too illicit like last time; the authorities' patience wears a bit thin with me."  
  
"I think that's for you to decide," Danny said, producing the canister.  
  
Andrew's brow furrowed. Rising from his seat, the tinker walked over and grabbed the canister, studying it intently. He peered at the cap, then tapped it, listening keenly to the hollow sound it made.  
  
"Where did you get this?" he asked.  
  
"I found it in the water, far from the coast," Danny replied. "I tried to open it, but the cap won't budge."  
  
"I wish I had heavier equipment in the office," Andrew muttered. "I think I could still get a result, though."  
  
Setting the canister down on the table, he produced a hand-sized device from a drawer. With a flick of a switch, it beeped to life, and he gave it a once over before setting to work. Holding it over the canister, he began to slowly sweep from side to side, eyes glued to a small screen on the gadget.  
  
"Hmm... very interesting structure. Different from what I usually work with." Andrew glanced up at Danny. "Would you mind if I held onto this for a while?"  
  
"Well... I'll give you a few hours. I have to sell the boat, anyway."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah," Danny replied. "It's getting harder to make a living off these waters. There's already a job opening at the docks back home; Annette wants me to take up on it."  
  
"Well, I'll miss having you visit," Andrew said. "You're a lot nicer than most of the sellers I have to deal with."  
  
"It was good money," Danny admitted as he headed for the door. "It just wasn't enough to pay the bills."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
A few hours later, Danny returned to find Andrew at the desk, the canister before him. There was a haggard look on the tinker's face, as though he had gone for too long without rest. An assortment of gadgets cluttered the table, some of them dismantled.  
  
"Something wrong?" Danny asked.  
  
Andrew looked up, rubbing his face wearily. "This has got to be the most stubborn thing I've ever had to work with. X-ray scanners don't get a good reading, and neither does sonar. The laser failed to cut a hole when I used it, even after I upgraded it. Unscrewing the cap with hydraulics didn't work, either. I ground smooth a diamond drill on the thing, and a nano-cutter became chipped and dulled when I tried to cut into the metal."  
  
"That's not very normal, I take it," Danny said.  
  
"The material isn't even enhanced by a forcefield; it's just that tough. I don't think any tinker has actually made something on such a level, which is really saying something."  
  
"What? You think it's from outer space or something?" Danny joked, only for his eyes to widen when he saw Andrew's reaction.  
  
"I'm not jumping to _that_ point," the tinker finally said. "Occam's Razor is still in effect, even when dealing with parahumans. No, there has to be a more believable explanation, somehow."  
  
Andrew picked up the canister, twirling in his hand. "I might have something in my main lab that could handle it. Is fifty-thousand a good deal?"  
  
"Fifty grand?" Danny sputtered. "You've never paid me even a fraction of that."  
  
"That was before you gave me a possibly extraterrestrial object," came the swift retort. "I understand if you want to keep it, of course; it would definitely make for a nice decoration."  
  
"Could I come back to you on it?" Danny squeaked.  
  
"I don't see any reason why not," Andrew replied with a shrug, handing back the canister. "The preliminary scans I made could already be useful for a project I'm working on; there's definitely a computer of some sort in there."  
  
Danny pocketed the canister. "It was nice seeing you, Andrew."  
  
"Likewise."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
Danny smiled as Taylor played with her toys, even though he hadn't been able to sleep for days. The docks accepted his resume, and the pay was good. Not spectacular, but better than fishing.  
  
"I don't think she's from around here," he finally said, turning to look back at Annette.  
  
His wife raised her head from the couch. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"The guy I brought the stuff to? He couldn't make heads or tails of it. Said it was unlike anything he had ever seen before."  
  
"So, what? She's an alien or something?"  
  
"It was just something that was put out there," Danny replied hurriedly.  
  
Taylor giggled as she chewed on her stuffed animal, then suddenly began to wail.  
  
Annette sighed. "I'll go get the formula."  
  
"That's another thing," Danny called after her. "We tried to have her nurse on you, but it didn't work, even after following that medical advice. What if that's because she's not..."  
  
"Human? Because, despite looking _just_ like a baby girl, she's actually a little green man?" Annette finished, incredulous. "Do you hear yourself right now?"  
  
"Maybe the pod did it. Whatever kept her safe during those three days might have also made her look like us. It did open only after you touched it."  
  
"Alright, then let's assume that you're right. Why bring it up?"  
  
"We're going to have to bring her to the doctor for checkups and vaccinations," Danny replied. "What if they find out, and she's taken away from us by men in suits?"  
  
Annette paused at that. She continued to rock Taylor, gently pressing the bottle to the baby's mouth.  
  
"If she get's sick, we're taking her to the hospital," she finally said. "No ifs, ands, or buts."  
  
"Alright," Danny said.  
  
"I wonder if there'll be signs," Annette murmured, her voice soft. "A way to know for sure she's not from around here."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
"She did what?!"  
  
The kindergarten teacher sighed, leaning forward on the desk. "The other kids saw it, Mr. and Mrs. Hebert. Taylor broke Chris Tarpey's nose during recess."  
  
"But he started it!" Taylor whined, arms folded as she sat on Annette's lap. "He pushed Emma off the swingset and laughed at her! He was being a big meanie."  
  
"Daddy will handle this," Danny assured, ruffling his daughter's hair. Already he could feel his temper swell, threatening to burst. "Miss, how could Taylor have done this? She's _five_ , for god's sake."  
  
"All the students saw it," the teacher repeated. "Miss Barnes can testify; she was the one who got pushed off the swings."  
  
"So the Tarpey boy actually did it?" Annette asked. "Why is she in trouble and not him? She was just helping a friend."  
  
"He's already been reprimanded for what he's done, and he _was_ the instigator. But there's a difference between giving a girl a scraped knee, and breaking someone's nose, Mrs. Hebert. It wasn't a small break, either; it was like someone stepped on a rotten tomato."  
  
"Can we at least see what this kid looks like?" Danny asked.  
  
The teacher complied, pulling up a yearbook draft. "He's the first on the middle row."  
  
Chris Tarpey, Danny saw, was not a small kid. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the boy was in second grade, maybe even third, and he was a head taller than Taylor. And, judging by the pudgy frame, about twice the weight.  
  
"I can't believe this," he said, the words almost coming out as a growl. "He's picking on kindergarteners, and you're making a fuss about my five-year-old daughter teaching him a lesson?"  
  
"Honey," Annette warned, putting a hand on his arm. "Deep breaths."

Danny grit his teeth. "You're actually going along with this?"  
  
"All we're asking for is that Taylor apologizes to Chris tomorrow, after the doctor is done with his nose," the teacher said. "Taylor's not looking at detention, here."

"Honey," Annette repeated.  
  
Danny glanced her way, then let out a long sigh. "Fine."  
  
"Good," the teacher said, visibly relieved. "We're finished here; you can leave if you want."  
  
"How are her grades?" Annette asked. "Just want to know before we head out."  
  
"Exemplary, actually. Taylor's a smart cookie; she has the highest grades in class."  
  
"At least that's good to hear, honey," Annette offered, patting Danny on the arm. "Come on, let's head home."  
  
Danny nodded and rose from his seat. Taking Taylor into his arms, he carried her out of the school and to the car. She was heavy for her size, he noted, and only getting heavier, yet she looked no bigger than a normal girl of her age. Buckling her into the back seat, he hopped into the driver's seat. Once Annette was in the car as well, he took off, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.  
  
As he drove back home, he glanced back at Taylor. The toddler's gaze was focused on the view outside the window, a half-smile on her face. Another strange thing about her; she was also quiet for her age.  
  
"I hope you understand why you're in trouble, young lady," Annette said, turning in her seat.  
  
"Because Chris Tarpey is a big meanie?" Taylor replied, folding her arms again.  
  
"No, it's because you hit him too hard," Danny said. "There's nothing wrong in protecting a friend, but that doesn't mean you should be as mean to the bully as he is to you."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Because that's what bullies do. You, Taylor Hebert, are not a bully. If someone is mean to you and your friend, make them stop. But don't be mean. Don't hurt them just because they hurt you."  
  
Taylor pouted. "But-"  
  
" _Taylor_."  
  
"Fiiiiiine."  
  
For a few minutes, they drove silently home. Spring was coming, and the trees were becoming green again. In a few weeks, they could head to the nearby beaches, which would be fun.  
  
"I like the cloud colors," Taylor piped up, absentmindedly playing with her feet.  
  
"You mean white?" Annette asked.  
  
"No, the other colors. The swirly things and the stripey things," Taylor replied, manner-of-factly. "I also like the dots on the flowers."  
  
Danny exchanged a glance with his wife, who returned the favor. No words needed to be said; the message was clear enough.  
  
 _We need to talk._  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
Years later, in the middle of yet another summer night, he woke to the sound of Taylor screaming.  
  
He was out of bed and in her room before he even realized it, a baseball bat clenched tightly in one fist. Taylor was sitting upright in bed, hands clamped over her ears, a look of sheer terror on her face. He was relieved, if only a little, when he saw no intruders in the room. Dropping the bat on the floor, he sat down on the foot of the bed.  
  
"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I-it's Mom," Taylor sobbed, pulling at her hair. "I h-heard her car hit something, a-and glass breaking..."  
  
"Shhh," Danny said. "It's just a bad dream, Taylor. Mom's fine. It's just a late shift, that's all."  
  
"I wasn't s-sleeping," came the choked reply. "I was listening around, and... and... oh god! I can't hear her anymore, Daddy! I can't hear her heart!"  
  
"You're just stressed out," Danny tried to assure, ignoring the cold knot forming in his stomach. "That's all."  
  
Taylor looked at him, tears rimming her inhumanly blue eyes.  
  
"Dad," she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's wrong with me?"  
  
Danny sighed, if only to try and calm himself. "Nothing's wrong with you. If I show you something, will you stop worrying about Mom? Something to help you, keep your mind off it?"  
  
Taylor nodded, sniffling.  
  
Getting on his feet, Danny guided her down into the basement. Rummaging through a corner of the room, he pulled out a large cardboard box and placed it on the ground in front of Taylor, then opened it up. Even after years of being kept in dingy conditions, it had never lost its shine.  
  
"What... what is it?"  
  
"It's what we found you in," Danny replied. "You were in the water, just bobbing in this thing."  
  
Taylor ran a hand over the smooth metal of the rocket. "F-found? You're not saying..."  
  
"It's the only thing that makes sense. I took it to an old tinker friend of mine, and he told me that there wasn't anything like it in the world."  
  
Taylor looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I-I'm not... I'm not your daughter?"  
  
"You are my daughter," Danny said, pulling her into his arms. "I don't give a damn where you came from. Mom and I raised you ever since you were a baby; you're our daughter. You're Taylor Hebert."  
  
Letting go, he pulled the canister from the box. "This was also with you. I tried unscrewing this, but it won't budge. I think it's meant for you, and you only."  
  
As Taylor took the canister into her hands, Danny unfurled the blanket, letting her see the bright yellow 'S' on it. She took it as well, running her hands over the strange fabric it was made out of.  
  
"You understand, now?" Danny asked, his voice soft. "That's why you're different. But that doesn't mean you heard... what you heard. It could be anything, Taylor, anything but that."  
  
Taylor sniffed. "Okay."  
  
Danny forced a smile. "Go back to bed, kiddo. Get some shut-eye."  
  
She did as told, heading back up the steps with the canister and cape in her hands. Danny watched her go, then followed after her. He didn't go back to bed, however; instead, he sat down in the living room, rubbing his eyes.  
  
When the call arrived, thirty minutes later, he broke his glasses.  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
The funeral was a small affair. Some friends and family were present on that cold winter morning when a cedar coffin was lowered into the earth, and a prayer uttered. Annette always liked Revelation 21:6, but the words seemed to ring hollow as Danny stared at where she would forever be buried. The weather wasn't fitting for such a day. The sun was up, with nary a cloud in the blue sky; it was as though nature decided to mock his -their- loss.  
  
Eventually, the sparse crowd began to disperse, heading to their cars and taxis, until only he and Taylor remained. A cold wind blew by, and he pulled down his wool cap to try and stay warm. Taylor didn't seem to even notice it.  
  
"It isn't fair," she said, her voice hoarse. "It just isn't."  
  
Danny put a hand on her shoulder. "You're right; it isn't fair at all. It isn't fair that she died, when there are horrible people still alive, or all the other bad things going on. The world isn't fair, Taylor, but that doesn't mean we should let it bring us down. She wouldn't want us to."  
  
"I f-feel like I could've done something," Taylor choked, looking down at her hands. "That I could've.."  
  
"Don't think about that," Danny cut off, squeezing firmly, tears welling in his own eyes. "What happened, happened. Don't let it eat away at you, Taylor."  
  
"I'm here for a reason, aren't I? M-Mom always said that if you were good at something, then you should help people with it. Maybe... maybe that's why I'm like this, Dad."  
  
"Maybe. But we can't focus on a word like 'maybe'."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Is there anything you want to say to her, before we go? Something you don't want me to hear?"  
  
A nod.  
  
"I'll get the car warmed up."  
  
Danny squeezed her shoulder one last time, then began to walk away. Sparing his daughter a glance, he saw her look down at a pair of glasses in her hand. Annette's old glasses, before her eyesight got worse.  
  
Taylor's lips moved, silently, then she slipped the glasses on.  
  


  
_**You have been reading:** _

_**The Girl of Tomorrow, Prologue: From Another World** _   



	2. This Looks Like a Job For... 1.01

**August 2010**  
  
"I'm not liking this," I said, looking down the side street. "It looks pretty sketchy."  
  
Emma glanced my way. "It's just a shortcut, Taylor. C'mon, we'll be fine."  
  
I sighed, then adjusted my glasses. "Alright. But let's go quick, okay? This place gives me the creeps."  
  
"Sure thing," Emma replied casually, walking in front of me.  
  
Sighing again, I followed after her. It was hot out, hotter than usual, and eerily silent. Though the sun was still out, shining brightly, I could see dark clouds in the distance rolling in. It would rain soon, and I didn't want to be caught outside when that happened.  
  
Anyone with common sense would be inside already, fanning themselves and putting their feet in icy water while the air conditioner blared at maximum, but Emma and I seemed to be lacking in that department. We had decided to walk to see a movie early in the morning, when it was cooler, and that decision had come back to bite us.  
  
Well, it came back to bite Emma, really; I didn't mind the heat at all. Or the cold winters, anymore. I used to feel the burning heat, and the cold, and scraped knees and all the other unpleasant sensations, but they slowly faded away as I got older. I couldn't remember the last time I felt tired, or even really hungry. Whoever I was, _whatever_ I was, made sure of that.  
  
I still didn't really know who I was. At least, not yet. The few pointers I had were cryptic, especially in this day and age. I did some research into parahumans, looking for an answer, but I found nothing that could explain what I was. I once even took an anatomy book to a mirror and looked at the inside of my own head, just to be sure. It definitely wasn't normal, what I saw, but it wasn't something that matched with what was known about parahumans.  
  
In a world full of strange things, I was still an oddity.  
  
"Taylor?" Emma asked.  
  
"Hmmm?" I turned to look at my friend, taking note of the infrared blooms across her face as her body tried to cool itself down.  
  
"I asked if you liked the movie?"  
  
"Yeah," I replied.  
  
I didn't actually, but I didn't feel like talking about _why._ With eyes like mine, that could see x-rays scatter on the magnetic field, or a bacterium split, a lot of movies were ruined for me. Music wasn't ruined, thankfully; there was a difference between the unknown sounds of the world and the melodies we made.  
  
"I liked it too," Emma said, wiping her face. "God, it's hot out. Why the hell aren't you sweating?"  
  
I shrugged. "Good genes?"  
  
"Seriously?" Emma giggled. "You look like a vampire with how pale you are. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sunburned this summer."  
  
"I've been lucky. But let's stop talking about it; I think we should hurry up before it rains."  
  
Thankfully, Emma seemed to agree. We broke out into a light trot; I made sure to keep my pace with her and not race ahead. As we made it down to the end of the street, however, I became of a sound I didn't notice before- heartbeats. A half-dozen of them, coming around from each corner. My eyes shifted, and I could see the two groups approach through the walls. Teenagers, older than us, with green and red rags tied around their arms or ankles.  
  
My blood ran cold when I realized they had the colors of the ABB.  
  
"Emma-" I began.  
  
It was too late. They stepped into our path, feet apart and ready for a scuffle. I couldn't smell gunpowder, which was a relief, but I could see the knives hidden in their belts and pockets. One of them slipped on a pair of brass knuckles behind his back, while another one brandished a large chain. Behind me, I could hear more heartbeats, and I realized that we were surrounded.  
  
Emma took a step back when she saw them, then glanced back at me. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and I could smell the adrenaline coming off her skin. She was afraid, very much so.  
  
"Taylor?" she mouthed.  
  
"Wallets and phones," one of the thugs growled, taking a step forward. He was no older than me, but his face was already aged from heavy drug abuse.  
  
"Okay, okay," I said quickly, reaching into my pockets. "Emma, don't try anything stupid. Please."  
  
She looked as though she was going to protest, then she changed her mind. Reluctantly, she set down her purse on the ground, and quickly stepped away. I put my wallet and phone down next to it, and sidled next to Emma. The thug stepped forward and scooped our stuff up, a smug grin on his face.  
  
"Thank you very much," he said. "Now, boys, which one do we want?"  
  
A cold pit formed in my stomach when I realized that they weren't just here for a simple mugging. I glanced at Emma, and I could hear her pulse pounding when the realization hit her, too.  
  
"The brunette's nice," a goon said, licking his lips. "I like curly hair."  
  
"Yeah, but she's flatter than day-old soda," another retorted. "The redhead, though. She's got 'em firm ones, and a pretty face, too. Nobody's gonna mourn a rich bitch like her."  
  
I could hear murmurs of agreement amongst the other ABB thugs at that. Emma gripped my wrist like a vise, a look of terror on her face as she stared at me. I stared back, almost studying her, and my resolve hardened. I couldn't let that happen to her. I _wouldn't_.  
  
"We agreed, then?" the seeming leader said. "Alright, then. Come here, red. Don't make this tougher than it has ta be."  
  
"No," I said. My voice was soft, but hard and even as I spoke.  
  
The leader blinked in surprise, then gave me a bored look. "I ain't asking ya, no-tits. Donny, get this bimbo out of the way, rough her up a little."  
  
I could hear footsteps behind me, and turned to see a large thug take hold of my arm. His nails dug into my skin, and he jerked roughly, only to grunt in surprise when I didn't budge. He pulled harder, but with the same result.  
  
"Move it, bitch," he snarled.  
  
I looked at him, calmly wrapping my hand around his wrist as I did so.  
  
Then, I _squeezed_.  
  
There was a hideous sound of cracking bone, and the thug screamed in pain as I shattered his wrist. He fell to his knees, trying to pull free, and I punched him square in the jaw with my other hand. I could feel teeth knock loose with the impact, and he crumpled to the ground with a wet sound, more teeth snapping like chalk. A glance told me he was still alive, though in rough shape.  
  
There was a brief pause as the other goons stared at their fallen comrade, and I took a step forward. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles popping, and I tightened my jaw as I glared at them.  
  
"Get her!" the leader shouted.  
  
As soon as they began to move forward, I sprung into action. Dashing forward, I caught another one of the thugs with a punch across the jaw, then tossed him at one of his friends. They collapsed into a heap, groaning weakly, and I hopped over them to catch another goon in a tackle. Hoisting him over my head with nary a grunt, I tossed him at a bunch of trash cans, a snap filling the air as his leg broke with the impact.  
  
Hearing metal scrape against leather, I turned in time for a thug to bring down a kukri on my throat. His eyes widened, however, when the blade snapped against my skin, and I rewarded his efforts with a kick to the gut. He stumbled back, emptying the contents of his stomach, and I casually swept out his legs before moving on.  
  
As if a switched had been turned on, the thugs began to flee, like a herd of cattle that had been spooked. They ran in all directions, some of them tripping over their own fallen, and I watched until they were a good distance away before turning to check on Emma. She was unharmed, thankfully, and she sidled close with wide eyes.  
  
I could still hear an extra heartbeat, and I turned to see that the leader was still there, frozen to the spot. Emma's purse was clutched in his hands, as well as my wallet and phone.  
  
"Hand our stuff back," I said to him, trying to keep my tone even. I could feel myself growing angrier, knowing what could've happened to Emma  
  
The ABB goon simply stared at me, his mouth agape. His heart pounded against his ribs, and a pool of warm liquid had now formed around his shoes. I crinkled my nose as the acrid scent of urine wafted by my nostrils; the bastard had actually pissed himself.  
  
I had enough. I took a step forward, and the thug tossed our stuff back in a panic. He bolted around the corner, and I made sure he was far enough away before letting out a sigh of relief. Kneeling down, I grabbed my stuff and picked up Emma's purse. I handed it back to here, taking note of how her heartbeat was returning to normal; she was calming down, thankfully.  
  
"What..." Emma licked her lips before continuing. "What the hell was that?"  
  
"I don't know," I replied shakily, my voice soft. "I don't know."  
  
I looked down at my hands, and felt a pang of nausea when I realized they were covered in blood. It was warm and sticky to the touch, and I wanted it _off_.  
  
"I'll walk you home," I said, swallowing dryly. "Okay?"  
  
Emma nodded. "Okay."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
It was a short walk to Emma's house. Her parents weren't home, but her sister was, thankfully. I stayed on the sidewalk, hiding my bloody hands behind my back as Emma headed inside. She spared me a glance, her heart still pounding, then shut the door.  
  
Once I was sure no one was looking, I ran.  
  
I sprinted down the street, sharply turning around the corner and dashing towards my own home. The summer rain finally came down, whipping against my face as I ran, washing away the drying blood from my hands.  
  
I was back home before I knew it. The rain was still coming down, and I knew I should've felt at least a little cold as I stepped across the lawn and up onto the porch. Dad was still at work, but I knew where to find the emergency key.  
  
My hands shook as I worked the lock.  
  
Stepping inside, I ran up to the shower, discarding my clothes as I went. Immediately, I went for the bar of soap, and scrubbed my hands until I was working with a thin sliver. Blood flowed down the drain, and I made sure to wash that away, too.  
  
Changing into loose sleeping clothes, I walked into my room and plopped down on the bed. The rain pattered against the windows, like nature's own drums, and I could feel myself calming down as I listened to it. For a while after Mom died, when I couldn't sleep during the middle of the night, I'd lull myself to sleep with the sounds of the world.  
  
Sitting up, I began to look back on the events of just a half hour ago, brushing away the filter of panic. I saved Emma and myself, and I didn't kill anyone. That was good; it meant that there wouldn't be anything coming back to bite me. But how did I do it?  
  
My hands traced where the kukri had broken against my throat. I never knew I was that tough, or that strong. It made a bit of sense, in retrospect, but that still left a lot of questions.  
  
I needed answers.  
  
Rising from the bed, I softly padded over to a bureau stand and pulled the bottom drawer open. Pulling a shoebox out, I set it down on the bed and opened it up. The canister was still there, along with the red cape. Removing them, I absentmindedly put the box aside, and sat back down.  
  
Picking up the canister, I gave it another good look. There was an 'S' engraved on the cap, just like on the cape, and I gripped it tightly. Taking a deep breath, I turned it one way, straining my muscles. When that didn't work, I tried the other way, using my left hand just in case.  
  
There was a brief moment where the cap didn't budge, then it suddenly gave, a low hiss escaping the canister as I unscrewed it. Turning it upside down, a silver tube fell out, along with something that looked like a long crystal. I blinked in surprise, staring at them, then picked up the crystal.  
  
As soon as I did, something happened.  
  
I was no longer in my room, or even the house. Instead, I was suddenly standing in a broad field, surrounded by long red grass that swayed gently in the breeze. The sky was blue, but a different tinge than before, and there seemed to be an almost red tint in it. Turning, I saw that the sun was setting, but it was not the sun I knew. Bigger, much bigger, and _redder_.  
  
I also saw something else. A domed building of some sort, one that appeared to be made of the same material as the canister. The style wasn't like anything I had seen before; it seemed almost like a blend of a countless others, but in its own unique way. A stony path led up to an open door, and I noticed that the place didn't have glass in its windows.  
  
For the first time in memory, I began to sweat.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the path. It was quiet, very quiet, and I realized that my senses had somehow become dulled. It was a strange sensation, and I hoped it would pass.  
  
Stepping through the arched doorway, I saw that there was only one room in the building. A man was in the middle of it, working on something, and my breath caught when I saw that it was the rocket Dad had found me in.  
  
"Hello?" I called.  
  
The man didn't answer. Licking my lips, I stepped closer, still wary. Light shone down from the top of the dome, and I noted that it was actually an open ceiling. Thin blue clouds drifted overhead, bringing with them a cool breeze.  
  
"Hello," the man said.  
  
Jumping in my skin, I turned to face him. He was tall, and with a powerful build. His hair was jet black, kept in a neat trim, and I could've sworn he had a spit curl. For clothing, he had a black body glove and a red robe over it, the 'S' symbol splayed on his chest. Bright blue eyes stared into my own as the man smiled kindly at me, and my breath caught.  
  
They were just like my own.  
  
"Who?" I began.  
  
"This is a prerecorded message, with only some variables allowed by the data crystal," the man said. "I know you must have questions, and I hope you'll get your answers. The fact that you have the strength to open the canister, as well as the necessary genetic profile, shows that you will understand what I tell you."  
  
He straightened. "My name, young one, is Kal-El. This world is called Krypton, and it is my birthplace. It is also yours."  
  
 _Krypton,_ I thought to myself, eyes widening. _I'm an alien._  
  
"Our world is not so different from Earth," Kal-El continued. "We are, however, much older. We have long since conquered disease and strife and suffering, but there are things even we cannot stop. Our sun, Rao, is dying; in some time, it will consume Krypton. Our governing body has decreed that we shall die with our world, for reasons I cannot explain yet."  
  
Pausing, he gestured to the rocket. "I disagreed with their ruling. This rocket shall, or rather, _has_ , transported you to Earth, keeping you in stasis. Within it, aside from you, is the entire body of knowledge of Krypton. Based on the telemetry this data crystal has gathered, you have lain in the rocket for more than fifty-seven of the Earth's short years. When you were discovered by a human couple, part of their DNA was utilized in altering your appearance as to blend in. In effect, you have two sets of parents- there are your Earth parents, whomever they may be, and your Kryptonian parents: Lani Lo-Is and I."  
  
He -Kal-El- was my birth father? Objectively, I knew it made sense, but at the same time... it was too unreal.  
  
"The name we gave you," Kal-El said, "was Zara Kal-El. Lani is, sadly, dead; one of many earthquakes caused by Rao claimed her life. But you mustn't dwell on her, or on me; you are as much a child of Earth as you are of Krypton, Zara. I sent you to Earth, so that you could do what any good father wants: live, and be happy. But there are other reasons as well."  
  
 _What could that be?_ I found myself thinking. There was a tightness in my chest, like I could barely breathe.  
  
"I wish for the Earth to avoid the same pitfalls Krypton made, and to weather what is to come. There is much strife on their - _your_ \- world; that much I know. But they have the same capacity for good that Krypton has fulfilled, and you could help bring them to that, Zara."  
  
Kal-El stepped forward, still smiling warmly. "You have already noticed that you are different from the other humans. Stronger, faster, free from the diseases and ailments that tarnish their enjoyment of life. The light of Earth's sun is what grants you these powers, due to its effect on your Kryptonian biology. You will only grow stronger in time, much stronger, but to reach your full potential, you will need to push your limits, Zara. I send you, one last daughter of Krypton, to carry on the legacy of my world, and ensure the future of another."  
  
The building faded away, along with the fields of red grass and the massive sun, and I found myself back in my room. The rain had stopped, and sunlight was shining once more shining through my window.  
  
I looked back down at the crystal in my hand, then at the cape, neatly folded on my bed.  
  
Some things, Dad told me, didn't happen for a reason. But as I stared at the cape, I knew that there was an incredible reason for why I was here. The sole survivor of an alien world, sent to live, but also to help the world.  
  
Mom always told me, before the day I lost her forever, that if I had a gift, I should use it to help others. And that was what I was going to do.


	3. This Looks Like a Job For... 1.02

Of course, I couldn't get ahead of myself; I needed to think things through. Way too many novice heroes died because they just decided to jump right into the thick of it, and the idea of my corpse being plastered over the news was not an appealing one. If I wanted to do this, I'd have to do this  _right_.  
  
Setting down the crystal, I picked up the second thing that was in the canister- the thin silver tube. Studying it closely, I realized that it was a scroll of some kind, using a thin metal instead of paper. A Kryptonian variant of microfilm, maybe?  
  
Carefully unfurling it, I narrowed my eyes, peering closer until I could see things on the microscopic level. Sure enough, there was something printed on the metal, and written in English. Kal-El must have done a lot of research before sending me here; his English was better than most of the people I knew. Of course, that still begged the question of why it wasn't written in other languages- did he somehow know where I would get found?  
  
Settling down further, I began to read. The sheer amount of information Kal-El had put about Krypton was staggering, like he had crammed several libraries' worth of encyclopedias into the scroll. There was even an extensive table of contents, in order to help me better navigate the long history of the planet, along with countless images of buildings and important figures. History, mythology, technology: there wasn't a single subject left untouched, and I was taking it all in.  
  
I didn't realize how long I had been reading the scroll until I heard Dad pull up into the driveway. Glancing outside, I saw that the sun was low on the horizon, casting a beautiful hue across the sky. It was already close to nighttime, which meant that I had been reading for hours. Looking back to the scroll, I saw that I had barely covered a fraction of it, which just hammered home just _how much_ information there was. I could finish even the thickest books in under ten minutes, and this was giving me trouble.  
  
Rising from the bed, I hurriedly put the cape and canister back into the shoebox, then grabbed the crystal. I took a deep breath, then opened the door and calmly went down the stairs.  
  
Dad looked up at me as he opened the door. "How'd your day go, kiddo?"  
  
"Oh," I said. "Uh, it, um, went okay..."  
  
"Taylor, I'm your father; I can tell when something's up. Are you alright?"  
  
I sighed. "I'm fine. Emma and I just had a scare. Some ABB thugs came up and tried to mug us."  
  
Dad froze. "What?"  
  
"We're both fine," I stressed. "I scared them off; they didn't hurt us."  
  
"Doesn't mean I'm not concerned," Dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you _really_ okay, Taylor? You could've gotten hurt during all that."  
  
"I don't think so, Dad. It's actually what I wanted to actually talk to you about."  
  
I held up the crystal for him to see. "I managed to get the canister open, and it had this inside. I finally know where I'm from, Dad."  
  
Dad froze, eyes fixed on the crystal in my hand. "What is it?"  
  
"Just touch it," I replied. "You'll see what I mean."  
  
Reluctantly, he held out his hand. I put the crystal in his palm, and immediately I could sense that the neural message was playing for him. A few moments passed, then he blinked. Looking at me, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. The neuron activity in his brain was spiking as he tried to process what he just learned, and I noted that he was beginning to sweat.  
  
"Wow," he finally breathed.  
  
"I know," I said, taking the crystal back. "It's just so... fantastic. It all makes sense, now. I'm like this for a reason, Dad. I'm _here_ for a reason."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," he said, slumping down into his favorite armchair. "It's just... knowing that all at once, after so many years in the dark..."  
  
"It doesn't really change things, though," I offered, stepping forward to give him a hug. "I'm still your kid, Dad; nothing's going to change that."  
  
He smiled at that. "I'm glad to see you're happy, kiddo. How about we get takeout to celebrate finding out?"  
  
I smiled back. "That sounds good."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
Later that night, after I had gone back up to my room, I decided to read more of the scroll. Dad expressed some curiosity when I told him about it, but decided it wasn't worth it to have me read it aloud to him. Considering just how much there was, I could understand his angle.

I wondered if there was something else behind his reasoning. Dad wasn't a professor-type of person; that had been Mom. But he was still an avid reader in his spare time; the piles of books by his bed stood testament to that. Perhaps, his  _real_ reason was because he didn't want to be reminded that I was only his adoptive daughter.  
  
Regardless, I brushed it aside as I focused on the scroll once more. Unfurling it again, I decided to switch up my reading a little. When I first started, I was so excited that I just read as much as possible, without skipping any sections. But there _was_ a table of contents that covered all the topics and subtopics the scroll contained; something told me that Kal-El had intended for me to use it, just like I would if I was reading an encyclopedia. So, I decided to do some selective reading, to see just what kind of things he had put down.  
  
I decided to go with some history first. It was fascinating, seeing how they had gone from something uncannily similar to Earth, with its own fair share of strife, to a species that prospered for hundreds of thousands of years. The wonders they accomplished seemed almost like something out of an old pulp-novel, stuff that almost everybody nowadays decried as silly pipe dreams. I read voraciously, absorbing as much as I could.  
  
Suddenly, my phone rang.  
  
Reluctantly, I put the scroll down and grabbed for my clunky old cell. Flipping it open, I leaned back against the headboard and answered the call.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
" _Taylor_?" a voice asked. Emma's to be exact.  
  
I sat up again. "How're you feeling?"  
  
" _I'm feeling a bit better, after all that... you know_ ," she replied. " _I don't think I got to say thanks for bailing me out like that_."  
  
"You don't have to," I said. "It's what friends do for each other."  
  
 _"That means a lot, Tay. So... do you have powers now or what? I decided to look it up after you pounded those dudes into hamburger meat_."  
  
"I guess? Maybe? It was all so confusing; I was so caught up in what happened that I didn't really give it a thought."  
  
" _That does sound like something a new pairhuman would say_ ," Emma offered. " _I looked up what some pairhumans said in interviews and stuff, and they kinda said what you said_."  
  
"I guess that's the case, then. And it's 'parahuman', Emma."  
  
" _That's how you pronounce it?_ " she said, surprised. " _Shit; I think I've been saying it wrong for my entire life_."  
  
I chuckled. "Remember when I kept on pronouncing chameleon funny?"  
  
Emma giggled at that. " _Yeah, that was funny. Anyway, what are you going to do now?_ "  
  
"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "Like, am I going to be a hero?"  
  
" _Yeah, that does sound like a cool idea. You could join the Wards and fight crime with big heroes and stuff._ "  
  
"I'm a bit hesitant about that," I said. "I mean, that does sound like a good idea, but I don't think I'd want to handle all that teen drama. Besides, they don't get to actually fight crime that much; I actually want to be out there, you know?"  
  
" _Oooooh. Going to wage a one-girl war on the dark, evil, dark underbelly of the evil dark criminal underworld?"_  
  
"I don't think you used 'dark' or 'evil' enough," I replied, giggling.  
  
" _You think?_ " Emma asked. " _Anyway, I think we should hang out tomorrow and talk more about it. That sound good?_ "  
  
I smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me. How about Fugly Bob's at noon?"  
  
" _Kay. See you there, Tay._ "  
  
The phone went dead, and I snapped it shut. Putting it back on the bedside table, I went back to reading the scroll. As I did, one of the sub-topics caught my eye.  
  
 _The House of El_ , it was titled. And, right beneath it, was the same symbol on my cape.  
  
Feeling more than a little anxious, I began to read.  
  
The House of El, apparently, was one of the oldest on Krypton, with a history that stretched back to their ancient times. Many famous historical figures shared that bloodline, most of them scientists. Mon-El, the pioneer of nanotechnology. Ilo Bar-El, who designed the transporter disc and revolutionized transportation for the entire world. Countless innovators and inventors, who raised Krypton to greatness.  
  
There were, however, more than a few famous warriors among their ranks.  
  
An image showed an illustration of a man, wearing armor not too unlike a medieval knight's, with a long red cape. In one hand, he carried a long sword that was awash with flame, while in the other he held up some strange creature's head, triumphantly displaying it for all to see.  
  
 _Vor-El,_ the caption read. _A mythological hero of old, who slew a beast that had been terrorizing a village for many years. There are analogues between him and the Earth legend of Hercules, which are elaborated on in the sections that deal in mythology._  
  
I noticed that on his breastplate, painted in red and yellow, was the 'S' sigil of the House of El. According to the scroll, it was one of the oldest symbols on their world, one that stood for hope.  
  
Hope. That was a rare commodity these days, considering all the awful stuff that was going on. Every day there seemed to be a news article about mass murders or terrorist attacks caused by capes, and that was just around here. The rest of the world was even more messed up, with Europe coming to a crumble and China becoming a xenophobic dictatorship, with warlords fighting over the scraps.  
  
And, every four months, an Endbringer would chose to make on of those places even more hellish. People tried to stay optimistic about it, but we all knew the world was slowly coming to an end. Piece by piece, year by year, Earth was dying painfully. We weren't going out with a bang, but with a whimper. Scion was the greatest single force for good on the planet, and even he couldn't turn the tide against what was happening.  
  
What if I could?  
  
I studied the image of Vor-El standing proudly on the horizon, how the light gleamed off the emblem etched into his breastplate. He was more than the legendary hero the text described him as; he was a symbol of hope, that even when things were at their worst, they could still see a better day. Kal-El had said I would grow even stronger than I already was, and that the only way to find out how much was to push my limits. Just how powerful could I eventually become, under the light of the sun?  
  
I glanced at my drawer, and peered through until I could see the cape inside. For the briefest of moments, I imagined myself in Vor-El's place, bearing hope on my chest as I fought for a better day.  
  
That gave me an idea.  
  
I rose from my bed and fetched a notebook from the closet. There was a pen on the bedside table, and I grabbed it as I sat back down. The night was still young, and it had been nearly a year since I felt the need to sleep.  
  
Uncapping the pen, I began to draw.


	4. This Looks Like a Job For... 1.03

The weather was a bit cooler than yesterday, and people were heading out as a result. The jostle of the crowd moving through Fugly Bob's made me uncomfortable as I walked inside with Emma; I didn't like the idea of someone eavesdropping in on my conversation. Considering just how preoccupied everyone was with some soccer game, though, I decided that it was a small risk.  
  
After making our orders, we took one of the booths by the windows, where we could get a nice view. Sunlight filtered in through dingy windows, sending a trill of warmth up my spine as I sat down, and I could see the heatwaves billowing off the water from where I sat. With my senses, I don't think I could ever find a sight boring.  
  
"So," I began. "What do you want to start with?"  
  
Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see... how much do you know?"  
  
"About my-" I paused, then lowered my voice. "About my powers?"  
  
"Yeah. So, you're definitely really strong, but do you have anything else?"  
  
It suddenly struck me that, despite being friends for years, I had never opened up to her about _anything_ regarding my nature. I didn't feel it was right, back then, but things were different, now. There was no more hiding secrets from her, and it felt cathartic. For the first time, I could finally say everything I wanted to, without fear.  
  
"I can see more things," I replied. "Like, I can see x-rays and infrared and all that. I think I can see the entire spectrum of light, and I can look at microscopic things. My hearing's also a lot better. See that man sitting three booths behind me?"  
  
Emma glanced over. "Yeah."  
  
"He's been a smoker for at least twenty years. Started young, too. I can hear the beating of his heart, and the rasping of his lungs every time he takes a breath. He seems to be quitting, since I can't smell a lot of tobacco on him, but it's done its damage."  
  
"Cooooool," Emma said. "So, you can see people naked? That must be freaky."  
  
I shrugged. "Happened on accident a few times, but I have a good lid on it already."  
  
"Anything else? Or is that it?"  
  
"I'm not sure," I replied. "I mean, I feel like I can do more, but I'm afraid to test it, you know?"  
  
"Sounds like you need to find a place to test."  
  
The waiter came with our orders, interrupting the conversation. Emma had gotten a chicken sandwich with a small soda, while I had ordered a salad. A cursory glance told me that it was clean, though the dressing was loaded with preservatives.  
  
"Man, I forgot just how greasy this place is," Emma remarked, looking down at her meal. "This thing looks like a heart attack on a bun. A delicious, delicious heart attack."  
  
"It's close, and the food's cheap," I said, taking a bite of my salad. "Besides, it's not like we come here everyday, right?"  
  
Emma chuckled. "I think we'd both be six feet under if we did."  
  
She took a tentative bite of her sandwich, then put it down. "Anyway, we need to think of a place where you can test your powers and train."  
  
"When did you become a cape groupie?" I asked.  
  
"Since last night," Emma replied, pausing to sip her soda. "Did you know that Armsmaster has his brand on toy halberds?"  
  
"I did. And does the Graveyard sound like a good idea to, well, train?"  
  
"It's a _bit_ obvious. I mean, a lot of capes in the past went there to train, so now people have their eye on it. Besides, I heard that the E88 is near there."  
  
I chewed my salad thoughtfully, then spoke. "There might be a place we could head to. Near where my dad works at the Docks, there's an abandoned scrapyard. Not a lot of people walk by it, since it's kinda spooky looking, which would be good for keeping it secret."  
  
"How long a walk is it?" Emma asked. "It's still pretty hot out."  
  
"It's a bit far, but it's closer to the beach. The sea breeze could help you keep cool on the way."  
  
"Count me in, then."  
  
I smiled. "Let's finish up and head over there."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
"Ugh," Emma groaned, a hand on her chest. "I think the food's already clogging my arteries."  
  
"Your heart's pretty healthy, actually," I said absentmindedly as I walked beside her. "Still could use some more exercise and less candy, though."  
  
"Puh-lease, like you're one to talk. You look like a sick vampire."  
  
"Considering that I have honest-to-god powers, I can safely say that I'm in good shape." I stopped, then pointed ahead. "Anyway, this is it."  
  
Emma turned to look at the entrance to the scrapyard, which simply consisted of rusty chain-link fences and a gate. Beyond it, I could see the piles of scrap metal and assorted garbage that would serve to help hide us from any prying eyes, already becoming overgrown with vegetation. There weren't any large animals nearby; they had the sense to avoid it.  
  
"I'm glad I got my tetanus shots," Emma murmured. "Are we sure we should head in?"  
  
"You could stay outside if you want," I offered. "Besides, it's better here than a place close to Neo Nazi supervillains."  
  
"Okay, but don't get too far out of sight. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."  
  
"Alright, then," I said.  
  
With that, I walked to the gate, Emma trailing behind me. There was a heavy-duty padlock on it, secured in place with thick chains, and I decided that it would make for a good first test of my strength. Taking it in one hand, I squeezed until I heard metal groan, then ripped it free with a sharp click as the chains broke.  
  
"Jesus," I heard Emma mutter. "I'd need, like, huge bolt cutters for that."  
  
"And that didn't feel too hard," I murmured.  
  
Opening my hand, I saw that the body of the lock had actually bent around my fingers, as though it was made of putty. Judging by the weight, as well as its composition, it was most likely some high-grade steel, which testified to how much force I had exerted to warp it like that.  
  
Casually discarding it, I opened the gate and stepped inside. There was a thick sheet of metal close by, and I decided to walk over and see if I could lift it. Taking one of the edges in my hands, I hoisted it neatly into the air, as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. To my surprise, the metal didn't warp under its own weight, nor did it cause me to sink into the ground. Flexing, I began to tear it up with ease, lumping the pieces together until I had something the size of a basketball.  
  
"Toss it!" Emma shouted behind me.  
  
I decided to oblige. Adjusting my grip, I threw the lump of metal like an oversized softball. Though my form was clumsy, I still managed to hurl it a good hundred feet, where it promptly smashed through a pile of scrap. Hunks of metal flew out from the point of impact, creating an unpleasant cacophony, and I winced as I considered just how much noise it was making.  
  
"Maybe we should, uh, call it for a day," I said.  
  
"Sounds good," Emma swiftly agreed. "My house?"  
  
"Your house."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
Thankfully, Emma's parents and sister were out, which meant that we could talk without fear of being overheard. We decided to head to the living room, where I promptly plopped down on the couch and began surfing through the channels. According to the news, they were doing a twelfth-year anniversary report of the Green Dragon's first appearance.  
  
"Ya know, you're going to need a costume," Emma commented, sitting down beside me. "Something cool, with some pizazz and all that."  
  
"Well, I've been thinking about some designs," I said, leaning back into the living room couch.  
  
"Sweet. Can I see them?"  
  
I obliged, pulling out the notebook from my backpack. Flipping it open, I handed them over to Emma. She studied the illustrations closely, running a hand over them, then glanced back up.  
  
"What's with the 'S'?" she asked. "You have it on every drawing."  
  
"It's not actually an 'S'," I replied. "It's an ancient symbol that represents the ideal of hope; I read about it somewhere not too long ago."  
  
Hey, it wasn't a lie.  
  
"Well, it looks like an 'S' to me," Emma said. "Looks pretty good otherwise, though you need to come up with a mask."  
  
"I've been trying, but it's harder than I thought. I don't want to look threatening or criminal, and it needs to be easy to wear, practical. Domino masks probably won't cut it, and anything else would draw attention."  
  
"How about goggles? My sister has some in the garage, back when she tried that biker phase."  
  
It did actually sound good, the more I thought about it. I had no idea how well my eyes would hold up to the wind when I was moving. Sure, it probably wouldn't do much, but pilots used to protect their eyes for a reason. And, the goggles would be big enough to conceal at least part of my face, while avoiding a threatening appearance.  
  
"Can I see them?" I asked.  
  
"Sure," Emma replied.  
  
She got up and walked out of the room. I peered through the walls, watching as she went into her sister's room and opened a drawer. She came back quickly, goggles in hand, and dropped them on my lap. Picking them up, I ran my thumb along the thick leather straps.  
  
"They look like something the Red Baron would wear," I said.  
  
"But they're pretty cool, huh?"  
  
"Let's see how I look, first."  
  
Taking off my glasses, I slid the goggles on. Securing the strap, I glanced back at Emma.  
  
"Well?" I asked. "How do I look?"  
  
"If you weren't my best friend, I'd probably have trouble recognizing you. God, your eyes look really blue without the glasses, you know? Like, not normal blue, either."  
  
"Thanks?"  
  
Emma chuckled. "I meant that as compliment. Anyway, let's look some more at your ideas. I'm really liking that simple one."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
Dad was still at work when I came home. The E88 was hampering business even more so than usual, which meant that he needed to work overtime in order to pay the bills. It was tough work, and I could sense just how stressful it was on him.  
  
Hopefully, I'd be able to change that.  
  
Glancing at the clock, I saw that I had a few hours to myself, so I decided to gather the materials in order to start the costume. I grabbed a pair of old work boots from the closet, then brought them up to my room, along with the goggles. Depositing them on the bed, I then headed over to Dad's room to see what else I could grab.  
  
As it turned out, there was a lot of material to work with. There were a few white shirts that had never been taken out of the closet, as well as some unused bolts of cloth. Mom used to sew, and we never bothered to get rid of her old kit. There was also an old handbook she used to reference, and I decided to speed-read it before grabbing the kit and walking back to my room.  
  
Now that I had the materials, I began to work.  
  
I was luck to have some spare shirts around; there were more than a few mistakes on the way. My hands were steady, though, and already they were moving fluidly as I began to carefully stitch cloth together. I spent a lot of work on the emblem, carefully sizing it and reproducing the exact shape that was on my cape, then began to attach it to my shirt.  
  
Eventually, Dad came home, and I hid the half-finished costume under the bed. He was in a better mood than usual, thankfully, and we spent some time watching TV after dinner. After a while, he decided to tuck in for the night.  
  
Once I could hear him snoring, I resumed work, and finished within the hour.  
  
I sat on the bed, taking in my handiwork. It wasn't the best costume ever, but it was certainly good for a homemade one. Combined with the cape, and I could see it looking good when I took it out.  
  
Of course, that'd have to wait. There was no telling just what my limits were, and what else I could do. Emma and I had just barely scratched the surface with the whole thing; I'd need to practice more if I wanted to be ready for the streets, and that could take-  
  
" _Help!"_  
  
My train of thought came to a screeching halt as the cry reached my ears. It was fairly close by, judging by how attenuated it sounded, and I realized that it must have been coming from a few blocks down.  
  
Turning to the source, I narrowed my eyes, peering through the brick and wood of obscuring buildings, and saw it. A girl, even younger than me, surrounded by a trio of men that towered over her. They all had knives in their hands, and I could even _smell_ the testosterone wafting off them. The girl's heart was pounding against her ribcage like a jackhammer, and the look of terror on her face reminded me of the fear Emma had when we were attacked.  
  
Well, so much for taking things slow.  
  
There was no way I was just going to sit by and let them hurt her. Even if someone called the police, it would probably be too late, and the neighborhood was a fairly empty one. The only hope she had at the moment was me.  
  
Rising to my feet, I took off my glasses, then began to put on my costume.  
  
The jeans came first, then I slid on the work boots. I pulled the white shirt with the emblem on it next, hastily straightening it, then removed my hairpins. Normally, I kept my long hair in a ponytail, but I let it shake free to better hide my face as I fastened the goggles on. Finally, I put on the cape, draping it over my shoulders and securing it.  
  
All of that took a second. It took less time to open the window and hop out, shutting it on the way down. I landed on my front lawn in a crouch, then straightened. Taking a deep breath, I began to run towards where I had seen the girl.  
  
 _This looks like a job for-_ I thought to myself, only to realize I still hadn't picked out a name yet. _Eh, fuck it._


	5. This Looks Like a Job For... 1.04

I was amazed by my own speed as I ran, the ground whirling beneath my feet as I threatened to break the sound barrier. I weaved in and out of the streets, somehow able to turn on a dime despite my speed. In the span of mere seconds, I was already arriving at the scene, ready to fight.  
  
The thugs had forced the girl into a corner, leering looks on their faces as they shouted slurs and obscenities at her. She tried to move to the side, only for one of them to move in close and make a kissing face at her. They drew in around the girl like a net, brandishing their knives to show the power they held over her, their own hearts pounding with excitement. The whole thing sickened me to the core, and I found myself thinking of what could have happened to Emma if it weren't for me.  
  
There was something rewarding in the thug's eyes when they saw me barge into sight.  
  
I skidded to a halt, putting myself between them and the girl. They reflexively backed away, adrenaline rushing through their veins as the fight-or-flight response kicked in. Their grips on their knives tightened, and I could see that they were gearing for a fight. Taking a moment to study them, I saw that they all had swastika tattoos in various places on their bodies; it seemed that they were E88 goons.  
  
"Leave her alone," I said, lowering my voice. The intention was to sound older, but I couldn't help but cringe inwardly.  
  
The seeming leader of the trio frowned. "Defending a nigger? Get the fuck outta my sight, little bitch, and maybe I won't call someone in to tear ya skinny ass a new one."  
  
He'd overcome his shock rather quickly. They definitely belonged to the Empire, if they were threatening to bring in someone who could actually deal with me. The E88 was the single largest gang in Brockton Bay, with over a dozen capes, led by the infamous Allfather himself. If it weren't for Lung and his own gang, as well as the local Protectorate and other heroes, they'd be running the city. Even then, they were a force to be reckoned with, and it'd be bad luck to get their attention on my first night out.  
  
I took a step forward, fists clenched. "That wasn't a request. You can still walk away from this, or you can wake up in the hospital."  
  
One of the thugs seemed ready to take the offer; he even took a step back before the leader shot him a glare. Behind me, I heard the girl slowly shuffle away, trying to stay hidden.  
  
"Get her," the leader growled.  
  
All three of them ran at me, and I sprung into action. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I shot forward, catching the leader in the gut with an uppercut. I had to be careful not to hit too hard, otherwise I'd end up punching right through him, but I could tell that it hurt. He stumbled back from me, his movements sluggish to my eyes, and collapsed to the ground.  
  
The other two didn't have time to react before I took them down as well. I caught one in the jaw, knocking him out cold, then swung him in the direction of the other. They collided with painful force, then fell in a tangle of limbs, the conscious one groaning weakly. He briefly struggled to get free, then stopped when he saw me walk over. One swift kick to the chin, and he was also down for the count.  
  
Now that they were taken care of, I turned to look at the girl. She was shorter than me, with dark skin and hair, and dressed in rather gaudy looking clothing. Though her heart rate was still elevated, I saw that she was calming down. Sweat trickled down her face; nights were hot and muggy during the summer.  
  
"You okay?" I asked.  
  
The girl nodded, wiping a hand over her brow. "Y-yeah. Yeah. Thanks for, uh, helping me out."  
  
"No problem. Do you have a cell phone? We need to call the police to load these guys up."  
  
"Sorry," the girl replied, patting her pockets. "Don't have one. I think there's a payphone nearby, though, and I have some change."  
  
"Go to it, and call the cops," I said.  
  
The girl nodded. "Okay."  
  
She turned to go, then looked back at me. "Who are you, anyway? A new cape?"  
  
"I'm-" I began, only to pause. I still hadn't figured out what my cape name was going to be.  
  
"I'm here to help," I finally replied.  
  
"Then what's with the 'S' on your chest?"  
  
I sighed. "It's not an 'S'. It's means hope."  
  
"Alrighty then, 'here to help'. I'll go make the call," the girl said, jogging down the alleyway.  
  
I watched her turn the corner, then continued to watch her through the walls as she went to the payphone. Satisfied that she was calling the cops, I turned to look for something to secure the thugs with-  
  
-and became aware of another heartbeat coming down the alleyway.  
  
Looking up, I saw a man approaching, a strong gust of wind preceding him. He was shirtless, showing off a muscular physique, and a wore a white tiger mask made out of wood. Peering through it, I saw that his face was pieced and covered in tattoos, many of them obscene, and there was a hard look in his steel grey eyes as he glared at me. Stormtiger, one of the mid-level capes in the E88.  
  
Of course I had the luck to encounter him on my first night out.  
  
"Thought I smelled something strange," he growled. "You made a mistake coming onto this turf, bitch."  
  
That was all he said before he raised his hands and attacked, air currents swirling about his hands as he channeled his power. A strong gust of wind bowled into me, nearly knocking me over, and I had to fight to keep my balance. Stormtiger pressed forward, the gale growing even stronger, and the unconscious thugs began to roll towards me. I needed to act, and fast.  
  
Tensing, I crossed my arms in front of my face, then sprung forward, the asphalt actually cracking beneath my feet. Stormtiger's eyes widened before I collided with him, and the wind stopped as I caught him in a tackle and brought him down hard on the ground. He tried to grapple with me, but I ignored the attempt as I struck him across the face with enough force to crack his mask in two. Stormtiger fell limp, and I stood up, dusting myself off.  
  
He had some chains hooked into his pants as part of his costume; I used that to tie him up. Propping him up against the alley wall, along with the other E88 thugs, I then headed around the corner. The girl was still there, making the call; the fight must have been very short indeed.  
  
"What?" she mouthed.  
  
"PRT," I said. "Stormtiger's unconscious and hog-tied back there."  
  
The girl's eyes widened, then she relayed what she heard into the receiver. Already I could hear sirens approaching, too faint for the human ear to pick up yet. Turning to the source, I could see the police cars approaching, still a while away, and I suddenly felt exposed with only a pair of goggles on. Sure, the chance of them identifying me was small, but the less they saw of me, the better.  
  
"Gotta run," I told the girl. "They'll be here any minute; just stay by the phone."  
  
She nodded, but said nothing else.  
  
I shot her a smile. "Stay safe, okay?"  
  
With that, I bounded away.  
  


* * *

**S**

* * *

  
With a soft thud, I landed back on my lawn. Dad was still asleep, his heartbeat steady and even, and I made sure not to wake him as I hopped up to my window. It wasn't locked, thankfully, and I slowly swung it open as I prepared to slip back inside.  
  
Suddenly, I paused.  
  
Why was I heading back in, after less than a half hour out? The adrenaline rush from my altercation with Stormtiger was beginning to wear off, and I could think about the fight more clearly. Sure, fighting a cape on your first night out was a big thing, but I _won_ without even taking a scratch. It'd be more understandable if I was battered and bruised, too exhausted to continue, but I felt like I could go all night.  
  
Glancing up, I saw that the moon was only beginning to rise above the horizon. If I focused my vision enough, I could even see the Apollo landing sites; that was a fun way of keeping sleepless nights occupied. It also told me that the night was still young, and I could hedge a bet that Dad wouldn't notice if I was gone for a few more hours.  
  
Expanding my hearing, I listened in for signs of trouble. Even at night, the city was still bustling, almost a living thing in its own right. People would be heading out to watch movies or eat late dinners... and the criminal elements would be more free to engage in business.  
  
There. A car accident closer downtown; it seemed that the driver smashed into a fence. Focusing my vision, I saw that his face was bloodied, his nose broken.  
  
With a soft click, I shut the window, and hopped back down. Taking a deep breath, I sprinted down the street, heading for the scene of the accident. Flexing my legs, I jumped into the air, clearing a block in a single bound, and kept on going.  
  
The night was still young, and there was still a lot of work to do.


	6. Interlude - J

" _-first appearance was in Leviathan's attack on the small English settlement of Hereford, in 1998. Though a small population, its destruction would have brought chaos to the surrounding areas and endangered millions. Local parahumans were caught off guard by the sudden assault, and many feared that the city would be lost before more heroes could arrive to drive the Endbringer off."_

 " _Then_ , _to everyone's surprise,_ it _came._ "

" _Eyewitness accounts of the battle vary, but most believe that it managed to grapple Leviathan to a standstill, distracting it until reinforcements could arrive, then slinked away in the aftermath. Those who saw the creature called it the Green Dragon of Mordiford, after a beast from local folklore, and praised its arrival. Casualties were the lowest yet, and Hereford recovered with remarkable speed._ "

" _The creature would appear in other battles. Madrid. Shanghai. Seattle. It never showed for fights against Behemoth, and only twice against the Simurgh, but it never failed to show for a battle against the Leviathan, and its monstrous strength is always welcomed. Many have started to calling the creature the 'anti-Endbringer', a title mired in controversy. No one knows the nature of the beast, with many suspecting that it used to be a parahuman whose power went rampant. Regardless, however, many are glad for its presence-_ "

The phone rang, and Director Jones turned the TV off. The special didn't seem that interesting, anyway; the Howard documentary was a far superior account.

Sighing, he grabbed his cellphone and answered the call.

"Jones here."

"Director, this is Armsmaster," a terse voice replied. "We have Stormtiger in captivity as we speak."

He sat up in his chair. "Is he secured?"

"We have him in one of the holding cells. I believe there is some information that needs to be discussed on base, sir, regarding his capture."

"I'm on my way. Call the others to the meeting room as well; I want them there by the end of the hour."

"Understood, sir."

Jones hung up, then rose to his feet. Stretching, he grabbed his ID card and headed for the door. Briefly glancing in the mirror to make sure he looked respectable, he stepped outside and locked the door behind him. His apartment was on the first floor, which made for a short walk down the stairs and into the lot.

His rusty old car still managed to bring him to the PRT headquarters, though it didn't go without complaint. He often considered just selling it and buying a new one, but he never went through with it; there was a great deal of sentimental value to the bucket.

After being allowed to pass by an older woman at the gate, he rolled up into his reserved parking spot and headed inside.

You could criticize Armsmaster's people skills all you wanted, but the man was punctual. The others were already in the meeting room, waiting for him. Miss Militia, Velocity, and Dauntless were seated, while Armsmaster stood by a projector.

Jones frowned. "Assault and Battery on their off-shift?"

"They'll receive the briefings when they come in tomorrow morning, Director," Armsmaster replied. "In the meantime, we have important information regarding Stormtiger's capture."

The projector whirred to life, showing an image of an alleyway. A quartet of men were propped against the wall, their heads drooped forward as PRT officers moved in on them. They appeared to be bound by chains, and they all were extensively covered in cuts and bruises. One of them was shirtless, a broken mask in his lap.

"This is how we found them, Director," Armsmaster continued. "Miss Militia and I were on the scene first, along with a squad of PRT troopers. Stormtiger is the one on the far left, while the others are low-level thugs in the Empire's employ."

"What are we looking at, here?" Jones inquired. "A scuffle with the ABB?"

"Apparently not," Miss Militia replied. "There was an eyewitness at the scene. A Ms. Aisha Laborn, age thirteen. According to her, the three men on the right had cornered her while she was walking home, throwing racial slurs and threatening sexual violence."

Jones gritted his teeth. "Typical Empire gangbangers. I take it they're in custody?"

"The police took care of them once we had Stormtiger."

"Have them brought here; they might have important information about the Empire's activities. Anyway, continue on with your statement."

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "If Ms. Laborn is to be believed, then she was rescued by a new cape, one we haven't seen before. A girl, to be exact. One of our sketch artists produced this after speaking with the witness."

The slide changed, showing an illustration of the cape in question. She looked young, maybe fourteen or fifteen at the most, but was certainly tall for her age. Her costume was clearly homemade, consisting mainly of jeans and a white t-shirt with a sigil on it. A long red cape flowed behind her, and she wore a pair of aviator goggles that were partially hidden by her long black hair.

Jones stepped forward and tapped the sigil. "What's with the 'S'?"

"It's not an 'S', according to Ms. Laborn," Miss Militia replied. "She managed to actually speak with the cape in question, after the thugs were handled with. Apparently, it is meant to represent hope."

"I believe that is due to a research error," another voice said.

Jones turned to the speaker on the table. "Didn't know you were listening in, Dragon."

"Armsmaster consulted with me about the sigil before you arrived, since his own research wasn't producing results," the tinker replied. "I've scanned as many databases as I have access to, but none of them show a symbol like that as one of hope. In fact, that symbol doesn't exist in _any_ database."

"Interesting," Jones murmured, his brow furrowed. "Well, that's not important at the moment, anyway. What are we looking at here, power-wise?"

"A brute, most likely," Armsmaster said. "Mid level, maybe higher. Based on Ms. Laborn's account, she appeared before the goons had any chance to react, then beat them to a pulp in moments. Based on the bruising and broken bones, there was a considerable force behind those blows. The fact that she also took down Stormtiger is testament to her strength as well."

"Flight capabilities?"

"Yet to be determined. She apparently jumped out of sight, but we can't tell if it's genuine flight or just enhanced leaping."

"A potential Alexandria package, then," Jones said. "Definitely a tough one."

"She's also in considerable risk," Armsmaster added. "The E88 won't take this lying down; they've been especially touchy since Lung killed Cricket last month. It would be in her best interests if she were to join the Wards."

"Considering how she bounded out of there, I'm not sure if she's keen on that," Dauntless said. "Some kids want to take it solo when they're first out on the streets. Not saying that I approve, but we can't be too... pushy."

"Good point," Jones said. "She'd definitely make for a powerhouse if she joins; let's see if she decides to come to us first."

"What of the rival gangs?" Armsmaster inquired. "The ABB might try to recruit her; Ms. Laborn didn't specify her ethnicity. If we wait for too long, then it might be too late."

"Or she might just join in with one of the independent hero groups," Jones offered. "You raise a good point, though. I wonder if the Wards themselves would be willing to try and talk to her, if they ever see her. She'd probably relate to them better, and they'd explain the benefits better than us."

"That does sound like a good idea," Miss Militia said. "Of course, I think they should only do it if they volunteer; the situation might turn dangerous for unknown reasons, and I don't want to press-gang them into anything."

"She doesn't seem like a dangerous sort," Jones said. "Still, I agree with your point."

"What name are we giving her, anyway?" Velocity asked. "If she's going to be in our reports, she needs a codename."

"Well, the cape hasn't come up with one for herself, if Ms. Laborn is to be believed," Armsmaster said. "I think we should go with a placeholder name; she can change it if she joins the Wards."

"How about Samaritan?" Dauntless offered. "Goes with the weird 'S' symbol."

Jones shook his head. "That's taken by a Mover in LA, I believe."

"I think we could wait until she comes up with a name for herself," Miss Militia said. "Most capes don't like being given names."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jones declared. "In the meantime, keep an eye out for her."

"It'd be nice if we got some more info, first," Dauntless piped up. "I wonder what she's doing right now?"

* * *

 **S**

* * *

  
"C'mon, Sebastian, come down," Alicia whined, reaching out from the window. "It's dark out, and Mom says I can't go outside."

The black longhair looked at her from his perch on a nearby tree branch, and mewed in retort. Settling down, he began to clean himself, as if in open defiance of his owner's request.

The little girl blinked back the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. "Please? Pretty please?"

"Hold on!" another voice exclaimed, from beneath the window. "Don't worry, I'll get him!"

Before Alicia could figure out what was happening, an older girl hopped up onto the tree branch. Her eyes widened when she saw the red cape on the girl's shoulders, and her breath caught as the realization hit her. A superhero had come to rescue Sebastian!

"Don't be scared," the hero said, balancing on the branch as she reached out to grab Sebastian. "C'mon, c'cmon."

Finally, she managed to pick up the kitten, much to his protest, and handed him back to Alicia. The little girl grabbed Sebastian and pressed him close to her chest, ignoring his pleading mewls.

"Thanks Miss Superhero Lady," Alicia said excitedly.

The hero smiled. "Be careful next time you open your window, okay? Longhairs aren't outdoor cats."

"Okay. Please don't tell my mommy."

"Alright, I won't," the hero replied, chuckling. "Now, get to bed; it's late out."

Before Alicia could reply, the caped lady dropped out of sight. She peered over the window ledge, but saw nothing; the hero had already left. Sighing, she stepped back and closed the window, pouting.

"Let's get you ready for bed, Sebastian," she said, hugging the kitten close.

Sebastian merely groaned in reply.

* * *

 **S**

* * *

  
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 **Topic: Stormtiger Apprehended by New Cape  
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes**

 **derpritter** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

Link is **here**. Apparently, Stormtiger and three thugs got their butts handed to them by some new hero in a homemade costume.

 **(Viewing Page 1 of 1)**

► **accelpoeration** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:Something tells me the Empire's pretty salty at the moment.

 **►marcobsalazarm** (Veteran Member) (Costume Fanatic)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Any comment on what the costume looked like? I'm pretty curious to see what a new cape would come up with on her first night out.

 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Apparently she had a red cape and a white shirt with a sigil on it. All the report said.

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
It's not everyday you hear about a new cape in the city. What kind of powers are we looking at?

 **►IrregularAK** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Mid level brute, I think. She might be an Alexandria Package, but no one's confirmed it yet. She was tough enough to beat up Stormtiger, that's for sure.

 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
She definitely seems like an independent hero, but is that going to stick? Anyone think she's going to join the Wards?

 **►Orex Lock** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
She's that young? Anyway, it'd be cool to have an independent hero for once. Or maybe she could join the New Wave?

 **►Kolonel Klingon** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
The team already has Glory Girl as a bruiser, but I don't think they'd mind another. Of course, I think the Wards would be much safer; the Empire's not going to take the loss of one of their bigger guns lying down. They already lost a cape to Lung last month, and it looks like things might explode soon.

 **►fuccboi34** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
_This comment was deleted due to racism and inflammatory remarks. Enjoy your one-month ban. -Tin Mother._

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Really? _Really?! Clears throat._ I hope this new cape stays safe; she definitely seems like a good one.

  
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 **Topic: Rumors of Ward Transfer?  
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes**

 **accelpoeration** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

Has anyone else heard about it? Since they only have four Wards in BB, they might move one in to help with numbers.

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 **►Kolonel Klingon** (Veteran Member) (They Guy in the Know)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
I've been reading about it for a few days. Yeah, I think it might also be a bit of PR move on their behalf. Word at the watering hole is that they might move in a Case 53 to help people acclimate to them.

Sounds like a good idea, honestly.

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Who's on the roster, anyway?"

 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Gallant, Vista, Clockblocker, and Triumph. Triumph's graduating to the Protectorate at the end of the month, around the same time Director Jones is retiring.

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
I'm pretty sure I heard something about a tinker also milling about that the PRT wants on the Wards, along with that brute who took down Stormtiger.

Oh, and the Director is retiring? I always liked the jokes he made in PSA's about capes.

 **►Kolonel Klingon** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
They might not join, for all we know, and the PRT definitely wants a replacement for Triumph. Based on previous leadership reports, they might bring in that Weld guy.

And yeah, Jones is out at the end of the month. Apparently they're bringing in Deputy Director Piggot from Boston.

 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Neat. And what was that meme about Weld again?

 **►saltyshinji** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
_This comment has been deleted for inflammatory remarks. Case 53s are people, too. Enjoy your one month ban. -Tin Mother._

 **►accelpoeration** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Pretty sure that isn't it.

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
FIRST I FIGHT THEM

THEN I BARIUM.

I'M JUST A TIN COPPER WITH A HEART OF GOLD.

I could keep going, guys.

 **►accelpoeration** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Please don't.

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 **Topic: New Cape Saves Man in Car Crash  
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes**

 **soulcookie** (New Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

EXTRA EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT **HERE.**

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 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Well, she's definitely a hero, then. And strong, too.

 **►accelpoeration** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
We need to name her, stat!

 **►Kolonel Klingon** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Pretty sure the PRT's going to do that soon. Anyway, it's nice to see someone help people for a change instead of beating up other capes.

 **►derpritter** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Didn't you post on the thread about her beating up Stormtiger?

 **►Kolonel Klingon** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Details.

 **►Reveen The Disappearer** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
She also got my neighbor's cat out of a tree!

 **►soulcookie** (New Member)  
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:  
Pics or it didn't happen.

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